


God's Son

by Festively_Plump



Category: South Park
Genre: Death, Guns, Mental Illness, Poison Apples, crazy psychos, kenny hears voices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 17:37:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Festively_Plump/pseuds/Festively_Plump
Summary: Cartman easily unlatchesKyle’s bedroom window,Slipping a glanceBack to Kenny.Kenny is smiling so wideHis entire face hurts.It’s Kenny’s dutyTo save peopleFrom Kyle’s poison apples.





	God's Son

“Oh, Son!”  
The voice is loud,   
Earsplitting and beautiful,   
And Kenny cranes his neck   
To find the source.   
It booms again,   
The same cry   
That makes Kenny’s eyes   
Ravage his dismal surroundings   
For the source of such grandeur,  
But Starks pond  
Is entirely abandoned.  
No late summer campers,  
No indisposed homeless,  
No murky stalkers.   
Just Kenny,  
The booming voice,  
The still pond. 

That’s the first time,  
And it only increases,  
Both in volume   
And continuous occurrence.   
The voice says it’s God   
And that Kenny   
Is his chosen one,   
His new messiah.   
At first,   
Kenny walks   
with trepidation,   
But the voice is sure   
And in turn   
So is Kenny. 

Kenny is tired.   
He never sleeps,   
Endless death   
Plaguing his thoughts,   
His broken up body,   
His tar water soul.   
He wakes up one day,   
Deadly sick,   
With no one who cares   
Enough to at least ease   
This excruciating death.   
The voice appears,   
Quietly, almost,  
Soothing the dying boy,   
Who spasms in his   
Bug crawling bed.   
He dies that day,   
Yet another death,   
One more notch   
On an endless pole   
Full of endless notches-  
But soothed, soothed  
For the first time. 

The voice is kind,   
Like Kenny has never heard,   
And insists on being   
Called Father.   
So Kenny calls him that,  
And considers himself  
Special to say it. 

One day it’s snowing heavily,   
And Kenny’s God tells him   
To spread the word   
Of his innumerable deaths,   
Of his beautiful deity,  
Of what he sees and hears.   
Kenny can’t move,  
Weighing his imminent death  
On bony shoulders.   
His god tells him  
That Kenny has the right  
To protect his peers,  
Even his sister,  
From the evil  
If their small town.   
Kenny wonders,  
Only briefly,  
What evil,  
And his god says  
He’ll soon realize.   
“Hail, Kenny!”  
The voice laughs-  
“You’re a vigilante,  
A hero for the people!”  
It’s whispery and ghostly  
And Kenny soaks it up.   
Usually, he isn’t one  
To be so accepting   
Towards such striking praise,  
But for once  
Kenny can’t muster the energy  
To disagree,  
His normal humility  
Leaking like piss.

His god tells him  
Plans of quick shots-  
The screams  
Of the pained guilty-  
The quiet of the aftermath.   
Kenny nods drowsily along,  
Rocking to the voice,  
The starlit idea of heroism,  
And the hot white pain  
Of his newest ailment. 

His god whispers  
That Kenny doesn’t deserve  
The deaths he gets.   
He says that killing the evil  
Will help him feel better;  
That killing the evil   
Will take away the agony;  
That killing the Evil,  
The evil, evil people  
Who surround him every day,  
Will let him Rest In Peace. 

Kenny agrees,  
Lost in the pain  
And the promise  
Of sweet release.   
His god says  
He just has to   
Remove the deemed evil-  
Kill those  
Who deserve it-  
And he’ll be free  
From his never-ending nightmare. 

Kenny,   
Buckling now with the pain  
Of the seconds before demise,  
Screams his agreeal  
And rolls back  
Into deaths comforting arms. 

\---

So Kenny does,  
Whispering to classmates  
That scoot quietly away,  
Faces contorted between fear,  
Muddled confusion,  
And a need to be polite.   
At lunch, he sidles up to Kyle,   
Placing a cold hand on his back,   
And leaning in to whisper   
Into Kyles pink flushed ear,   
That he is the son of god. 

Kyle dips his head,   
Eyebrows knitting in confusion.   
“You’re not the son of God, dude.”   
He says, and he smiles   
That Kyle brand of smile   
That’s half condescending,  
Half good willed.   
Kenny smiles tautly back,  
Shaking his head  
Like he knows something  
Kyle is just too stupid too.   
Kyle notices  
And his smile flips. 

Kenny keeps talking,  
Babbling about his god  
And what his god’s said. 

Kenny says,  
Pulling Kyle’s ear down  
Which makes him stiffen,  
That he’s died.   
Kyle sits still,  
And Kenny takes it  
As a silent sign to continue.   
“I die,”  
He whispers,  
Like it’s sticky  
And hard to say.   
“You’ve seen me.”  
And Kyle shakes   
His head of ginger curls.   
“You’re insane,”  
Kyle clicks out,  
A polite smile  
Drawn quickly across   
His crinkled up face.   
Kenny just stares  
Into his traitor green eyes. 

He coughs,  
And Kyle goes back  
To pecking around  
At his cafeteria hot lunch.   
But Kenny doesn’t give up.   
He tries again,  
Repositioning himself  
And slinging an arm  
Around Kyle’s boney shoulders.   
“You’ve seen me, Kyle.”  
And Kyle shakes his head  
Because he truly can’t remember  
And he’s frankly  
A little bit scared.   
Kenny repeats himself,  
Eyes big and pleading,  
Lips cracked like paper.   
It’s true Kyle has!  
It’s true!

Kyle was there  
When Kenny’s head  
Shot open   
Like a watermelon  
With too many rubber bands.   
He was there  
When the knife  
Went clean through  
Kenny’s long neck.   
He was there  
When Kenny’s heart  
Suddenly blocked and shuddered  
And he writhed until he died  
On the cool gym floor.   
He was there  
As Kenny screamed  
And ran in circles,  
Trying to escape  
The flames clinging  
To his faded pink body.   
Kyle was there  
When Kenny dropped,  
Just simply dead,  
Into the snow  
On that field day  
In the dead of April.   
Kenny runs over  
Every death he’s had  
In his gaping mind.   
Kyle’s been there  
So many times.   
He’s seen so many deaths.   
Why does he pretend  
Not to remember?  
Kenny looks up,  
Slowly,  
Like a trapped animal,  
To Kyle’s traitor eyes.   
His god whispers something  
He can barely catch. 

Fuck, he thinks,  
Shuddering blue eyes   
As wide as saucers,  
Kyles always there.   
Kyle's seen so much.   
He pauses,  
The realization dripping off him  
Like a rush of clean water.   
Kyle is always there.   
Kyle knows,  
He just won’t admit it.   
Why won’t he admit it?  
Maybe because   
He has a part in it.   
He’s the reason Kenny’s cursed  
With endless,   
Day after day death.   
Kenny’s too shocked  
To be mad just yet.   
All he can do  
Is stare,  
Lips parted slightly   
In Awe   
At his epiphany. 

Sensing the change  
In Kenny’s posture,  
Kyle tries   
To change   
The subject,   
Pushing an apple   
And wrapped sandwich   
Toward Kenny’s   
Twitching hands.   
Kenny eyes the food   
With blue orbs.   
He starts to refuse,   
Suddenly overcome   
With unsettling fear  
Of his once good friend,  
But Kyle insists.   
So he eats,   
And Kyle smiles,  
Something big. Sharp. 

As he eats,   
Kenny shakes like a flea,   
Watching Kyle  
And his traitor eyes. 

Kyle’s in on it.   
Kyle wants him dead.  
—  
Cartman is a loner.   
He’s fat, ugly   
Both inside   
And outside.   
He has no friends,   
But many an enemy.   
The kind of kid  
That enjoys death.   
The kind of kid  
Who’d watch a suicide.   
He’s ugly,  
Both inside  
And outside.

Kenny finds him,   
Sitting in the snow   
Lacing up a dirt-stained shoe,   
And sits right next to him. 

“Whaddaya want?”   
Asks Cartman,   
Not even looking up.   
“Just your attention.”   
And Cartman laughs,   
Shaking his meaty head.   
“Hell no, poor boy.  
I’ve heard what you been sayin’.   
You’re dead crazy.”  
He stands up,   
Rocks forward a second,  
Then straightens up  
And begins to lumber off.   
Kenny just grins,  
Watching Cartman trod off.   
He follows Cartman,   
Ignoring his middle finger   
And almost-mean cussing.   
Kenny knows   
Cartman likes the idea   
Of blistering murder,   
Of absolute power,   
Of sudden fame,   
And lets his god’s ideas   
Vocalize and slap  
Against Cartman's skull. 

So Cartman nods along,   
Mood suddenly changing.   
He asks,   
“Who inspired this?   
It feels oddly   
Out of character.”   
And Kenny says,   
Breathe quiet and giddy,   
That his god did.   
Cartman stops.   
He turns,   
Incredulous   
At Kenny’s words.   
After a moment   
Of blankly staring   
He starts to laugh.   
Laugh like a maniac,   
Causing Kenny   
To shuffle sideways   
And knit his face   
In almost embarrassment. 

His god said   
It would make sense.   
His visions  
Of red tinted death,   
Of flying lead   
Shining in the air,  
Of bodies-  
So many-  
Sporadic in their order  
On the linoleum floor.  
Who wouldn’t be convinced?   
So Kenny,   
In strange spontaneity,   
tackles him,   
And they topple   
Into a coat colored heap,   
Squished together   
In the blinding snow. 

Cartman goes bright red,   
And Kenny leans in,   
Breath dusting   
Cartman's face.   
“Come on,   
Fat boy,”   
His eyes   
Are Christmas lights.   
“I know you want   
To be a hero!”   
He screams it  
Because he knows  
It’s true.  
Cartman wants to be   
A hero in his own eyes,  
A remembered name,  
One people quake at   
Just the thought of.

They lie there  
For some time,  
Locked in volatile intimacy.   
Kenny breathes,  
And Cartman   
Grows redder.   
Kenny talks  
Of Starks pond  
And the beginning  
Of the glorious voice.   
He explains what’s been said,  
What the voice believes,  
What Kenny’s been told,  
Everything they  
Could get away with.   
Cartman listens,  
Pink lips  
Drawn to a tight line,  
Brown eyes  
Clouded with something  
Kenny can’t place. 

As Cartman pushes   
The skinny blonde boy   
Off of him,   
He gripes that   
He doesn’t think   
Shooting a bunch   
Of teenaged students   
Would make him a hero.   
To that Kenny laughs.   
“Not everyone,”   
He says,   
Taking Cartman’s hand   
And delighting   
As Cartman flushes pink.   
“Just those   
Who deserve it.” 

Cartman almost scowls.   
What happened to Kenny?   
His humble friend?  
Kind, in all aspects,  
Offerer of sage advice?  
After a moment  
Of thoughtless thought,  
Cartman nods,   
Lips pulled tight,   
Mind already full   
Of people   
Who “deserve it”.   
—   
Kenny sees things.   
At first   
He pretends   
They aren’t there,   
But soon   
He can’t ignore them.   
Shadows,   
Sneering and snickering,   
Follow him.   
He hears them whisper,   
Telling him   
Things he shouldn’t hear.   
Sometimes he can’t take it.   
He covers his ears,   
Collapses into himself,   
Whispering to them,   
Pleading, begging,   
Please, please, please,   
Just be quiet!   
Just leave me alone! 

Of course, they don’t.   
They seem   
To follow him   
And Kenny tries   
To focus on the teacher   
As they whisper   
And taunt   
And watch   
From the walls   
Of the room. 

When the teacher   
Calls on him,   
He doesn’t hear.   
His face is screwed   
In sweaty concentration,   
Trying to block out   
The laughing voices.   
Stan pokes him   
With a chewed up pencil,   
And Kenny snaps   
To attention.   
The teacher frowns.   
Kenny doesn’t know   
The answer   
To the question. 

Stan covers his face   
To hide a laugh   
But Kenny sees.   
The shadows whisper,   
(and now Kenny listens)   
That Stan hates him,   
And Stan isn’t his friend,   
And Stans gonna turn on him,   
Just like Kyle did.  
And Kenny nods along   
To their sweet tune,  
Licking up the true words  
As a cat laps at milk.   
—   
Kenny never asks   
If he’s sick,   
But Kyle does,  
One snowing day,   
Handing him   
A neatly cut apple.   
Kenny eyes the apple,   
And hears his god tell him   
Not to take it.   
He pushes the slices   
Back to Kyle,   
And shakes his head.   
“Not sick,”   
He mumbles,   
Biting his thumb   
And looking past   
Kyles concerned face.   
The shadows clump   
Behind some girls,   
A gaggle of gossipers.   
He cranes his neck,   
Swearing quietly   
They’re talking about him. 

Kyle looks away  
To the girls  
Kenny’s staring at.   
Kenny snaps back,   
Laughs and smiles   
And Kyle smiles back,   
For a moment placated.   
“You’re fine?”   
He asks,   
Sticking a slice   
Into his gaping mouth.   
Kenny nods,   
Looking away   
From the gossiping shadows.   
He rocks,   
And Kyle ignores it.   
—   
The next day   
Is uneventful.   
The two boys,  
Kenny and Cartman,  
Waste most of it  
Playing video games.   
Kenny allows himself   
To be lost in it all:  
A moment-  
A breath-  
Of calm.   
He revels in it.

When he’s said his goodbyes,   
And heads home,   
He runs into Kyle.   
Kyle smiles  
(Evil)  
(Like the devil)  
And Kenny smiles back.   
It’s a trembling smile:  
Afraid, anxious.  
And Kenny hopes   
Kyle doesn’t see.   
Thankfully, Kyle doesn’t   
Seem to notice,   
And blabbers on   
About some new book   
He’s had too much fun reading.   
Or was it a homework assignment?   
Kenny can’t tell,   
But Kyle pats him   
On his bony back   
And wishes him   
A safe walk home.   
Kenny smiles at him,   
Waving awkwardly,   
As Kyle disappears   
Into his green-colored house.   
When Kyle’s gone,  
He lets go of his breath.

He can’t talk to Kyle anymore-   
His god decrees it.   
Kyle wants him dead.   
Kyle poisons the apples.  
Kyle poisons the sandwiches.  
Kyle wants him dead.   
Kyle doesn’t care about him,   
He poisons the food   
He gives Kenny.   
Kenny can’t interact   
With that fiendish monster   
Any longer,   
Lest he gets hurt. 

His god just wants him safe.   
He knows Kyle   
Poisons the apples.   
He’s saved Kenny’s life   
By telling him this-   
So Kenny falls,   
Knowing he is safe,   
Into restless sleep.   
Kyle wants him dead,  
But Kenny has a mission.   
—   
Cartman has a gun.   
Technically,   
It’s not his,   
But his uncle’s dead now   
And his mom   
Says it’s time   
He owned a gun   
And became a big boy. 

So Cartman owns it,   
Brandishing it with   
A sickening pride.   
He shows it off   
One afternoon,   
After luring   
His “friend group”   
To his house   
Under the guise   
Of Ms. Cartmans cookies. 

Kyle says it’s dangerous,   
Of course he does.   
Evil eyes, staring at Kenny-  
Kenny shudders  
But says nothing,   
And soon Stan and Kyle   
Go back home,   
Muttering with disgust.   
Kyle looks like   
The devil to Kenny,   
And it’s striking, scary,   
But he knows it’s true.   
His god said so!  
And why would he lie?

He rocks a bit,  
Nodding his head,  
Quietly agreeing with his God.  
Sneaky Kyle! Evil Kyle!  
He deserves his impending death!  
Kenny can feel  
His face heat up   
With even the idea-  
How sweet the sounds,  
A shotgun blast-  
Ending the life of Evil;  
Of a mother’s weeping  
Over her devil-child;  
Of the last rattling breath  
Of someone so cruel  
As to poison the food  
He gives to others…  
Yes, Kyle deserves  
His impending death.

Cartman and Kenny  
Are alone, now,   
Squished together   
On Cartman’s bed,  
Even though   
There’s plenty of room.   
Cartman likes   
Sitting next   
To Kenny   
And Kenny enjoys   
The stability   
Of Cartman's rolls of fat.   
They’ve been planning  
For a few weeks, now.  
Choosing, carefully,  
How and Where.  
They know why.

So Cartman grins   
And says,   
Whispering like   
Something evil,   
He finally got the weapon.   
Kenny’s excitement   
Rears its head  
In the form of   
A bubbling laugh. 

Cartman shoves the gun   
Back in his closet.  
—   
At lunch,   
They avoid Kyle,   
Who sits alone now,   
Looking at them   
With a twisted gaze  
Of confusion and betrayal.   
It’s almost like   
He misses Kenny.   
But Kenny shakes his head,  
And his god says to him   
That Kyle just wants   
Him to come back   
So he can get rid of him. 

That's why Kenny   
Has to strike first,   
Or who knows   
What Kyle will do.   
It’s Kenny’s duty   
To save people   
From Kyle’s poison apples. 

They watch as Stan  
Joins Kyle, happy,  
And they talk for a bit.  
Kyle passes his bag of apples,  
Saying something   
As he nods towards Kenny.  
Stan nibbles on one,   
Smiling like an ignorant idiot. 

Kenny almost lunges   
To smack the apple   
From Stan’s pale hands,   
But Cartman grabs his shirt   
And asks him   
What the fuck he’s doing.   
Kenny doesn’t answer,   
But remembers what   
The shadows had said   
About Stan Marsh. 

He isn’t what he seems,   
He doesn’t care about Kenny. 

He’s in with Kyle,   
And his ugly green eyes   
Confirm the fact!

Green eyes   
Mark evil,   
Say the shadows.   
And Kenny knows   
That it’s true.   
Kyle has green eyes   
And look at him! 

It’s so strange,   
Kenny muses,   
How you can’t trust   
Anyone anymore.   
He eyes Cartman   
And his safe brown eyes   
And sighs. 

Cartman's good,   
He’s safe.   
Even the shadows agree.   
Cartman can be trusted.   
Cartman is safe.   
—  
Cartman and Kenny   
Finally decide to  
Schedule the killing   
For Friday night,  
And Kenny gets excited.   
His god tells him   
He’s doing the right thing,   
And Kenny believes it. 

Cartman stocks up   
On his one gun.  
It’s all they need,  
He says,  
Eyes twinkling.  
He looks so happy,  
Kenny smiles too.   
He leads Kenny   
To Kyle’s backyard,   
Showing Kenny   
How to scale Kyle’s tree. 

It’s a quiet, quick process:  
He’s done this before. 

Cartman easily unlatches   
Kyle’s bedroom window,  
Slipping a glance  
Back to Kenny.  
Kenny is smiling so wide  
His entire face hurts.

They slip inside,  
Delicately, tiptoeing,  
And watch Kyle,   
Who sleeps   
Under his heavy covers. 

Obliviously,   
Red curls fall   
Over his traitor green eyes,   
Which scrunch   
In dreamscape emotion.   
Kenny resists the urge  
To slap him, beat him.  
He bares his teeth-  
Oh, ugly fool.  
Poisoner!

Cartman reaches,   
Tenderly and quietly   
(So sweetly, so kindly!  
Not what he deserves!)  
Caressing his forehead  
With a rough thumb.   
He whispers he’s  
Trying to see how deep  
Kyle’s in sleep.   
What they would have done  
If Kyle had woken up,  
Kenny does not know.

But Kyle doesn’t wake up,  
So Kenny doesn’t think about it.   
He hears the shadows-  
Whispering in obvious delight,  
Brightly painted in their tone.   
Kenny feels it course  
Through his blood, too,  
The joy. The joy!  
The shadows often affect   
His mood- mostly for the worse.  
But now?  
Now he smiles!

As Cartman lines up  
The glittering barrel  
Of his loaded shotgun,  
Pulls the trigger, delicately,  
Like one who considers   
What he’s doing art,  
And the sound rings  
Like a resplendent bell,  
He smiles.

Cartman says run,   
But Kenny barely registers it.  
He’s smiling, laughing, even,  
So excited,  
So happy!  
Oh, Joy!  
The evil is gone, dead, gone!  
Kenny is free!

They scamper away from the house,  
Kenny can hardly keep  
From yelling and whooping  
In the joy of one  
Who’s won all the money  
In the world.  
Really, though,   
This is better than money.  
Kenny wants to cry-  
he overflows with   
Glittering joy.  
He asks,   
Leaning against Cartman,  
Who’s flushed pink,  
Grin starkly white   
Against his pinched cheeks,  
When they will kill the rest.

Cartman blinks  
He doesn’t care enough  
To kill anymore after that.  
Kyle’s all he craved,  
But Kenny doesn’t know that,  
So Cartman says they must  
Take it slow  
To avoid detection.  
The plans-  
The ones of many bodies,  
Of stained tiles and walls,  
Of blood seeping everywhere,  
So much it’s impossible  
To remove it all-  
Are put away,  
Stored in a little box  
In Kenny’s head.  
As they walk home,   
Hearing the faint screams  
Of a hysterical mother,  
Kenny hears his god,  
Warm with satisfaction.  
When his god is satisfied,  
Kenny is satisfied,  
And, for now,  
All is well in the world.  
All is good, all are safe.

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAA?  
> I hope this isn't too weird. Doing voices was new territory, but I suppose that's what writing is for- exploring, trying new things.   
> I would appreciate it if anyone commented their favorite epithets/lines :D <3 thank you for reading!


End file.
